


Collection of Christmas Drabbles

by duchessofclarence



Category: The White Queen (TV)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-12-04
Updated: 2013-12-04
Packaged: 2018-01-03 11:12:15
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 2,794
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1069785
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/duchessofclarence/pseuds/duchessofclarence
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A collection of Christmas-related drabbles concerning Isabel Neville and George Plantagenet set in a modern verse.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

I'm not sure if many of you are aware; but I actually RP as Isabel Neville in a community on tumblr and therefore I felt as if I should share some of my drabbles and prompts with all of you who do not have tumblr / do not follow me. This fanfiction will be made up of different prompts that I have received - some drabbles may be shorter than others. These are all written in a modern verse, so keep that in mind whilst reading on.


	2. Mistletoe ~

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Isabel is at her wit's end as George hides mistletoe in every inch of the flat.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You can find the original post here: http://duchessisabelneville.tumblr.com/post/68886931387/cause-gisabel-fluff-is-my-crack

It was ridiculous. It was also infuriating and a waste of decorations. It seemed as if her smarmy fiancé wanted to make her face turn as red as a beetroot as he continued to snake his arms around her waist and snog her each time she turned the corner. It’s a rule that you have to kiss underneath the mistletoe, he would insist with that horrid pout of his that he would use whenever he wanted something. Isabel’s strawberry blonde hair was pulled back messily into a dishevelled bun at the back of her head and that refined look of decorum that she had when she dressed herself that morning had diminished ~ her make-up felt almost like it was about to melt off from the heat of the oven and her cocktail dress was now covered with a grease-covered crimson apron. She carefully placed the golden and glazed turkey onto the serving platter and took a moment to smile down at her work ~ it was then that she felt those familiar strong hands upon her waist once more and she narrowed her cold blue orbs in irritation as she was suddenly spun around on the spot with a mere flick of his wrists. “No more!” she insisted with a stern expression.

“———–You are the one who asked me to be festive!” he whined as he towered over his fuming fiancée who had turned the same colour as her apron at this point. George dismissed her moans of protest as he pointed to the mistletoe above them and was as swift as ever as his lips crashed upon hers with a force that wasn’t meant for public viewing, never mind an audience with their family in the living room. The surprise of the sudden attack had her backed against the kitchen counter with her backside unintentionally slamming closed one of the open drawers. Isabel’s delicate hands were upon his face as she gently tried to ward off the possible snogging session, but it seemed as if he took that more as an invitation rather than a refusal. Those horribly sneaky hands left her waist and reached a more desirable destination upon her upper thigh as his fingers seemed to trace the sensitive skin there; further and further they climbed until Isabel could feel her tasteful cocktail dress becoming none-too-tasteful with his recent shenanigans in the kitchen. She slapped at his wandering hands and soon escaped from his breath-taking kissing skills within an inch of her life ~

 

“Enough! Or do I have to put a bloody leash on you?” she hissed, using her oven glove to swat him as he made a move towards her once more. “Now, unless you want to be eating your Christmas dinner in the front street, then I suggest that you behave yourself in front of our guests,” her tone was strict now as Isabel turned into full-on boss mode, fixing her cocktail dress and turning to lift the turkey platter carefully. He could only smirk at her in his usual smug fashion as he lifted a piece of ham from one of the other plates and put a small bit in his mouth. “I wouldn’t worry too much about it, Isabel; I’ve hidden so much more mistletoe in the bedroom.” The red-haired female looked back at him with narrowed eyes, but perhaps with a little hint of excitement.


	3. Conversations in the Dark ~

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Isabel is in the midst of preparing Christmas lunch when the electricity dies; this can only lead to cuddling on the couch.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> original post is here: http://duchessisabelneville.tumblr.com/post/68585036517/silent-night-because-even-though-you-havent-published

It was around seven o’clock when the electricity had gone out. There had been flickers now and then with the lights, but Isabel hadn’t pondered much over it as she busied herself with preparation for the Christmas lunch. It was the first time that she would remain in London for the festivities rather than return home to Warwickshire; it was after the death of her father that her family seemed to have fallen to pieces. Her mother had locked herself away for months and had refused to talk to them apart from the odd phone call now and then; Isabel had wondered if she would ever recover from the grief over her dead husband. Her sister had been in the middle of a horrid break-up with her last boyfriend when the news reached them that their father had died from a heart attack in the midst of one of his usual passions: her sister’s next actions were not expected, however, as it was soon found out that Anne had been seeing her fiancé’s brother for months and this secret liaison had come out just after the funeral ~

Isabel was determined to make the most out of this Christmas, however, no matter how much resentment there was now between her fiancé and his brothers. She had never been much of a housewife, as she had servants and cooks since childhood, but she was resolute that this would be the most perfect and festive Christmas that she had ever had and that nothing would spoil it. That was, until the electricity went down. The lights in the kitchen and living room were immediately cut out and she was immersed in darkness, and now the oven had shut down so that her half-cooked turkey was sitting there staring at her smugly from the glass. “GEORGE ~” her voice was loud and domineering as she folded her arms across her chest in irritation. There was a scuffle from the bedroom and then a thwack and then a string of curse words.

“Uh, why did you turn off the bloody lights?” his voice sounded from across the living room. Isabel could feel her face turning crimson as she clutched onto the dish cloth and tossed it furiously in his direction. “I’m just after walking into this ruddy pram and now you’re throwing things at me!” he whined with his tone laced with sheer confusion. “I refuse to believe that I agreed to marry someone so dense; the electricity went out!” she cried at him, her arms seemingly in the air with her mere frustration. “Come and get me!” Isabel insisted as she leant against the nearest counter and refused to move until she had someone upon her arm. Besides, she couldn’t risk falling down in case something happened to the baby ~ now only five months pregnant, her flat stomach had become rather swollen in comparison to what it had been. After hearing the unexpected news of her accidental pregnancy, Isabel had gone out with unisex baby clothes and things that she would need in due course but didn’t have the patience to wait.

It took a few minutes, and some more swearing, before she felt his hand upon her arm. Isabel clutched onto him for dear life as she left behind the preparations for dinner and he seemed to show her the way to the living room without much swearing this time; her feet were thankful when she finally fell down onto the sofa. Her hand was immediately upon her little bump as she soothed the unmoving baby inside her. “Don’t be walking around when the lights are out ~ I am not driving you to casualty on Christmas Eve!” she informed her fiancé with a stern expression, not that he could see it. There was some more shuffling around her and then suddenly their little area around the sofa was illuminated with the candle on the coffee table that George had smartly lit; he tucked the lighter back into his pocket before falling down on the sofa next to her. “This is the kind of disaster that I did not need when I’m trying to create the best Christmas ever!” she grumbled as she took off her little kitten heels and curled herself into him with her feet tucked underneath her and her hand sneaking into his soft hair. He pressed a soothing kiss into her hair whilst his other hand curled protectively around his fiancée and unborn child. “It is the best Christmas, because you will have your family around you.”

“Not all of them…” her voice was laced with sadness now as she tucked her head underneath his chin. Her father was gone now and so it had taken special effort to force her mother into coming to London for the holidays until New Year, and it had taken some time to convince George to invite his brother and her sister around – no matter how odd the situation had become. Edward and his own wife had politely refused the invitation that had been sent by Isabel, but it wasn’t like she expected much from them. It relieved her to know that at least George’s mother and his sister Margaret would be around for their lunch ~ for they seemed to be some of the few family members that he could actually stand when it came to family gatherings and festivities.

“All you must do is think of yourself, and don’t stress yourself with something that is supposed to be a happy occasion.” He made sense. He always made sense. George pulled the blanket from behind the sofa and enveloped it around them; covering Isabel as she wore only a little silk shirt due to the heat that came from the oven. “It’s hard to imagine that next year there will be another addition to the table!” her tone transformed now as her mouth pulled into a bright smile at the thought of her little Plantagenet baby. “And we can dress him up like a Christmas pudding!” she crooned at the very adorable thought of being able to dress up her little one all the time. George rolled his eyes behind her and she could feel the laughter rising in his chest.

“We are not dressing our child up like a Christmas pudding!”

“A snowman then?”

“No.”

“A little teensy weensy Christmas tree?!”

“Isabel!”

“Fine. I’ll dress you up instead,” she said with a triumphant smile.


	4. A Winter Proposal ~

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Isabel finds her calling as a fashion designer in this modern verse, and her debut night becomes a little more overwhelming than she could have expected.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> original post here: http://duchessisabelneville.tumblr.com/post/68172308004/marry-me-modern-verse-isabels-reaction-to-george

It was cold outside. The bitter wind seemed to whisk through her intricately tied back hair so that a few strands of strawberry blonde curls fell messily onto her cheekbones. It was but the black dinner blazer swathed around her petite form that protected her from the callous nature of the British weather. It was a shame that she had to steal the coat from her unfortunate boyfriend’s shoulders, as it started to snow meekly on their way home and now locked out of their flat; it seemed to become even colder. The evening had been absolute perfection and due to her elated mood, it was hard to even be bothered by the fact that her suede heels were being attacked by the snow. It was her first debut for her extended fashion line and she never would have believed that it would receive the attention that it did: when she graduated from university, she had a degree in Literature and had intended to live a quiet life as a teacher. It seemed as if her plans had transformed, however, when she had been photographed in one of her own pieces and soon decided that she would try her hand at reaching out with her designs ~

Isabel had been so astonished at the turn-out at the event and by the time that she had made it inside, she was almost dizzy with being photographed by journalists. It was attention that she had become accustomed to after being the eldest daughter to one of the wealthiest men in Britain: but this attention came with her own work and the praise for her work made her almost emotional as she had to take a moment to herself in the bathroom after she realised just how utterly popular her new line had been. She had invited her little sister to the event after learning that her boyfriend of four years would be in Berlin for the weekend on business ~ it had been a trip that had been planned for months and it had inwardly broken her heart that he wouldn’t be there to see it all. She saw him off to the airport, however, promising to take as many pictures as she could.

It was not expected, however, when George had shown up at the event himself in a three-piece suit and a sheepish smile. It was needless to say that she pounced on him with all of the force of an over-excited child. It was all that she needed to make the rest of the evening an absolute success: she wore won of her own pieces that consisted of a floor-length evening dress of a golden calibre that seemed to shimmer with each flash of a camera in her direction. The meal was impeccable as she had her family and few friends around her and her speech at the event had been flawless, as she had been practising it in front of the mirror for the entire weekend. Isabel had then been presented with her own contract for two years to design whatever she wanted and it would be modelled at London and Paris fashion weeks ~ it seemed as if the snow didn’t exist in that moment as she beamed with excitement for the entire cab ride home.

Isabel was still holding the bouquet of colourful flowers that she had been presented with at the event, and continued to press her neighbour’s buzzer insistently. “I cannot believe I left my purse with Anne, and now she has my keys and my phone,” she whined as she knocked loudly on the front door and waited for someone from the ground floor to come and answer so that she could hatch a plan to get her spare key underneath the fire extinguisher on the third floor of the expensive building. “If that dickhead from the bottom floor doesn’t answer this door in a second then he’ll be getting a brick through that bloody window,” she insisted as she turned around suddenly to face her jacket-less boyfriend.

It seemed that he had surprised her for the second time that night – for instead of turning around to see him rolling his speckled orbs at her whining, he had knelt down onto one knee in the bitter snow and held something in his hand. Isabel screamed aloud – not a cute or rather girlish scream – but more like a blood-curdling squeal of surprise as she immediately let the bouquet of flowers fall to the snow beneath them. The petals seemed to arrange themselves rather delicately around her kneeling boyfriend and she was pretty sure that her own knees were going to buckle at any second. Her name tumbled from his lips but it was almost like she were in a dream and she couldn’t quite hear him. Her mouth was open with astonishment as she tried to at least tune in on what he was saying, but all she could see was the glimmering diamond in the suede box in his hands that seemed to glisten even more underneath the orange-hued streetlights.

“Marry me?” The poor man sounded desperate now as she stood there for so long. She couldn’t speak; all she could do was nod her head frantically whilst words failed her. Her boyfriend – oh fuck, scratch that – her fiancé, beamed at her and after around five minutes of kneeling in the freezing cold snow, he rose so that she could toss her arms around him. The expensive jacket around her shoulders seemed to fall off behind her in her excitement but the cold was the least of her worries in that moment. “I think I have died,” she murmured almost inaudibly into his ear. She could feel the deep rumble of his chest as he chuckled at her and when she finally released him from her iron grasp, he took her dainty hand and slid that colossal ring onto her finger.

It was at that moment that their neighbour finally answered the front door with nothing on but his shorts and stared at the scene before him with a bored expression: “I’ll have to send in a complaint to the landlord if you keep forgetting your bloody keys!” the man grumbled from behind her. Isabel, who seemed to be in the most ecstatic mood, turned her head and gracefully flipped him off with a smirk. “Do whatever the hell you want – I’ll be moving to a more appropriate property with my soon-to-be husband.”


End file.
